Jackie, This is All Your Fault
by IHKF
Summary: Rewrite of Mother Freaking Scarlett. Kendall's in love with Kick, but she's pretty sure he's got his eyes on a hot-blooded red-head. Thanks to Jackie, she ends up standing before Kick on a Saturday night at a quarter to 9:30, trying her best to confess. All the while, Jackie's got her own issues of the love variety- and they both might have bitten off more than they bargained for.
1. For the Love of-!

Well, this story is a MAJOR blast from the past. I've reread it as of recent, and let me tell you I cringed up a storm. I haven't even looked at the KB stories I wrote before this which…. For some reason have 30-40 reviews? Thanks, guys! Anyway, this was one of my favorite depictions of Kendall and of Jackie, so I decided to rewrite it and post the results! Hope it's better this time around! ;D

* * *

Mother Freaking Scarlett.

She had red hair like smooth velvet, worn in a side braid because hair was less convenient in her face; her emerald eyes were always wide behind her perfectly parted bangs, bright and playful and damningly daring when she was set on getting her way.

Scarlett was everything Kendall wanted to be, and she still found room to have a little more.

Where Kendall still spent her nights balled up at her desk with a pile of rejected essay papers, Scarlett spent her free time scouring Mellowbrook with their resident daredevil, actively getting into trouble and getting out of it with a kick flip and the occasional makeshift parachute. Where Kendall mulled over all of the small ways she might have had an advantage over her rosy-haired competitor, Scarlett never seemed to have any qualms about her fit body or the charming chill of her voice—neither did Kick, for that matter.

It was why Kendall stayed up until the early AM on weekend nights, turning and folding in on herself just fighting the urge to dye her golden hair an off shade of blue—her hair really wasn't the problem. There were other things on her list that ranked high above the dull yellow of her hair.

She was boring.

She was snooty.

She was predictable and awfully good at blaming anybody but herself for her problems.

In truth, she knew in the heaviest, darkest pits of her heart that's truly what her obsession with Scarlett was about. She wasn't really jealous of her flexibility (from years of broken bones and stretched muscles), and she certainly wasn't jealous of her level-headed attitude to everyone and thing; No, in reality, the problem was one Kick Buttowski: Suburban Daredevil.

When they were young, barely crossing into the horrifying realities of puberty and early middle school, Kick never seemed to have much on his mind. His world appeared to consist of three key concepts: Gunther, Family, and Stunts. He was never a boy that chased after girls the way Gordon was, and even on the rare occasion that she found his lips pressed chastely to hers, he was the typical boy about spitting and wiping his mouth with his sleeve until his lips were skinned. Even when they hit 8th grade and the mutual disinterest between their differing genders was seeing a shift, Kick Buttowski stayed true to his skateboard and every rocky hill in Mellowbrook. People were starting to whisper things Kendall turned an ear to: he would forever be a bachelor or perhaps there was an interest in the other team. There were theories in abundance, enough that rumors were the joke export of their city, but still the truth flew somewhere under the radar: what kind of girl was Kick's type?

Nobody seemed the have any answers, and the question haunted Kendall long before she ever met Ronaldo and many years after. She thought about dressing in different styles on occasion, just to see if she'd get a reaction. She dolled up in a librarian's dress around freshman year, slim glasses atop her nose. Kick slid by her that day on the way to third period, papers leaking out of his textbooks because he couldn't be bothered to get a binder like she'd told him a million times before.

He caught her eye one second and was down the hall laughing the next.

She didn't dare make any other drastic changes to her wardrobe after that, for fear of the churning, enflamed feeling in her nauseous stomach and the charred burning on her cheeks. She'd decided to sit there and ponder until she knew for sure—who was Kick Buttowski's Suburban Daydream? She'd been running out of ideas…

… Until Mother Freaking Scarlett.

She strode into town on her board one heated summer afternoon with a house key in one hand and a smile from one ear to the other. Much to the towns—and Kendall's—surprise, Kick was near obnoxiously ecstatic about her new home in the corner of the creek near the edge of Mellowbrook. Where Kendall had failed for years, and Jackie had nearly (almost, but not quite) succeeded, Scarlett had been accepted into Kick's posse with little to no hesitation. It was with great disdain that class president Perkins watched the unstoppable duo become an unbearable trio.

That was what was pissing her off.

Kendall had been eyeing that place for 41% of her life, and she'd worked hard to get there because that's who she was. If she wanted something, some sacrificed: blood, sweat, tears, sore muscles, exhaustion—they usually got her what she wanted at the end of the day. But that was just it; no matter how hard she worked, no matter what she surrendered, there was no way on god's green Earth she could achieve what Scarlett had. Scarlett had Kick.

Try as she might, Kendall could never be her.

She knew because she tried. When she thought she'd said something cool, Kick's inevitable reaction was always some witty backhanded retort she never felt she—but probably—deserved. Towards the middle of their sophomore year, she'd clandestinely purchased her own skateboard; she was too chicken to ride it down and around the skating park. She trained her voice to be more alluring and less piercing, only to find even Jackie thought she'd come down with something.

Since the foxy stunt-double moved to Mellowbrook, there hadn't been a day that Scarlett, Gunther, and Kick weren't speeding down the sidewalks, knocking over trash-cans, and accidently shaving people's dogs.

Kendall didn't know the first thing about skateboarding or riding bikes or skiing or wrestling (well, aside from that one time) or doing stunts. She had accidently pulled off Kick's stunt before, but definitely not on purpose, and he still hadn't said a word. He was shocked, yes, but it was less about her and more about his quickly-dwindling fan base.

No matter what she did, no matter how she dressed or spoke or what hobbies she'd take upon herself, Kick wanted danger. He wanted a girl that would jump off a plane with him or go biking around the top of a volcano. Kendall couldn't do that. She could never do that, and the pain she felt knowing everything she was was nothing Kick wanted—it was the worst she'd ever felt.

"Mother" Kendall pounded her head against the light wooden nightstand she'd plopped herself against "Freaking Scarlett…"

"On about this again, are we?" Jackie stepped into her bedroom with a tray of cookies with two large mugs of what smelled like chamomile tea steeping inside them, closing the door behind her. She eyed the second mug and wondered vaguely if Jackie had been expecting company, but the sight of her favorite vanilla wafers clued her in that Jackie probably heard her less than flattering fall to the floor when she'd climbed in her window. She groaned and slammed her head one final time against the top drawer, and Jackie cocked an eyebrow and sighed. "I told you he doesn't want a girl to worry about him. He wants a girl in the action with him."

"I know, I know!"

"Wait…" Jackie paused, eyes darting from Kendall to the open window above her bed. "The window was locked. How did you-?"

Kendall frowned and held up a small silver key, which Jackie eyed with suspicion and then exasperated acceptance. "Right, okay. Not gonna ask how you got that." Kendall sat up, her legs shifting to the left of her backside because she was a lady and she'd sit like one. Jackie crossed the way to set the tray down on her bed, waving off Kendall's half-hearted warnings about the unstable surface. She took a seat at the edge of the mattress, swinging one leg over the other, letting her Viking helm slipper hang loosely at the end of her foot. "You know, I listened to your advice. You really should listen to your own."

"You and Gunther are a different thing entirely."

Jackie paused again, and Kendall knew that was a sign she was falling into a blind lovesick daze, if only momentarily. Although her cheeks grew the lightest shade of pink and her lips curled into the smallest smile if only for a second, Jackie shook her head vigorously and took an overly aggressive bite of one of the chocolate chip cookies from the tray. "We are not a thing at all." _Liar._ "I got over my obsession with Kick, and if he wants me he can, too."

Kendall glanced away and shrugged, playing with the rim of her button-up business shirt. It was wrinkled and stained with the dirt of the floor, and she made a mental note to guilt Jackie into cleaning her room beyond the usual hide-dirty-clothes-in-the-closet routine. Jackie readjusted her smaller glasses and set her half-eaten cookie down. "But I don't think you can."

"I'm not obsessed!"

"Fine, okay, fair enough, but you will be if you don't nip this in the bud while you still have the chance!"

Jackie gestured for Kendall to move with a flick of her hand, and Kendall took the hint to scooch further away from the bed. Jackie slid over the side to join her on the floor, hissing when the tray almost tilted the mugs over. Kendall eyed her up and down and she wasn't sure if it was out of disdain for the mismatched pajamas she knew her best friend had languidly slipped on, or nervousness about what she might say next. "Look, Kendall. You feel panicked when he isn't around, you always want to see him, it feels like your heart just won't rest until you do, and he's always on your mind. I've heard you mention him when a song reminds you of him and order certain foods because you heard he liked him—that's love, girl. I know it well."

She couldn't help it; a small smile inched across her face. "That's really how you feel about Gunther?"

Jackie coughed and hurriedly grabbed one of the mugs from the tray, her eyes seemingly straining to look at some non-existent far-away object out the window even as the hot tea fogged up her lenses. "Might be how he feels 'bout Kick, too…"

"Well, that's why you're making him choose, right?"

Jackie swallowed the huge sip she took with an audible gulp, wincing at her burnt tongue. Kendall might have laughed had the conversation not been in a more intense area. "I'm not making him choose between myself and Kick." She shook her head and opened her mouth, fanning what appeared to be her very red mouth. "He can be best friends and hang out with Kick all he wants. After all, Kick is, for lack of a better term, awesome! He just can't keep ditching me for Kick—especially when we're in the middle of a date…" the last part was quiet, but more than clear enough for Kendall's trained opera ears to hear it "… more specifically our anniversary."

Kendall pressed her head to Jackie's shoulder and reached around to give her cheek a comforting pat. When Jackie loved, it was fiercely and with no-holds-barred, loyally and trustfully with anything and everything she had; it was only fair that she expected the same. Gunther usually fit the bill, but when push came to shove, Kick just seemed to be higher on his priority list. While Kendall had never experienced that, she understood what Jackie was feeling very well. "So how did I tell you to handle him, again?"

She felt Jackie straighten near instantly, and she took that as her cue to move so they could be face-to-face. "Oh my god, okay. So it went something like this:" Jackie mustered up a fake cough, making it loud and muffled against her fist for a special effect. She raised a single finger in the air, wiggling it around as she spoke. "Confront him, and if he has no answer for you, you walk." Her fake accent was obnoxiously pretentious, and Kendall detested that she thought she sounded that way, but the message made an impact before the poor imitation ever did.

Kendall cringed, just as she remembered Jackie had when she'd been on the receiving end. "That sounds a lot harsher coming from somebody else."

"Yeah, but it worked! I'm a free bird, now!" Jackie extended her arms and flapped them excitedly, reaching the farthest they could as she stomped her feet around her carpeted floor. Kendall nearly hushed her when she remembered they were well into winter break; they wouldn't really be disturbing anybody in Jackie's night-owl home until much later in the night. "I can talk to boys and if he has something to say about it, then he can do something! It's the best kind of revenge-but-not-exactly-revenge there is!"

Jackie hadn't flirted with a single soul aside from Gunther and they both knew it; she just liked the idea of making him jealous.

Kendall brushed a strand of her behind her ear, blowing her bangs away from her eyes as much as she could when she hadn't done anything to them that day. "That's great, Jackie. What am I supposed to ask him, exactly?"

Jackie shrugged. "Ask him who he likes."

Kendall tensed, shoulders freezing when she really just wanted to slump over in defeat. "Jackie, I can't do that."

"What? Why not?"

"That's going to sound so weird to him! There's no way he's going to take me seriously!"

"Then" Jackie kneaded circles in the skin under her eyes "start crying when he doesn't answer you properly."

"But then he'll know I like him!"

"Then you're sure to get a real answer!"

Kendall tugged at her hair, tossing her head back against the nightstand with far more force than she'd intended, enough that she was sure she'd feel it in the morning. _Along with the effects of everything else I'll be doing tonight…_ Squeezing her eyes shut, she expelled all of her irritation in the form of one loud, extensive groan. "Oh my god, fine! But how do I-?"

"How do you what?"

Kendall blinked at Jackie, eyes narrowed, squinting because the true problem was obvious. It took around twenty seconds of nothing but uninterrupted silence and Kendall's increasingly disastrous aura, but Jackie eventually gasped and nodded in understanding.

They said in unison: "Mother Freaking Scarlett."

* * *

"Hey, I'll see you tomorrow, Buttowski!"

Even from the opposing wall of the home neighboring the Buttowski's, Kendall could see that familiar smirk on Kick's chiseled face—but more than that, she could see the heat in his eyes as Scarlett stepped by him, tossing her skateboard to the ground. Her bright red hair was, for some reason (a more wicked part of Kendall was already concocting several convoluted theories) out of its normal braid, loose and falling over her shoulders like the silk it probably was. Her green eyes met Kick's with equally as much fire, and it was becoming abundantly clear, even to Kendall's logical mind, that the two were flirting.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Kendall huffed.

"This is the only time ever that Kick is alone. We have to do it now!" Jackie whispered back, though it sounded more like a tempered hiss. Jackie sat crouched below her, pawing at the grass because she was clearly just as nervous as Kendall was. After all, Kendall reminded herself, where Kick was, Gunther wasn't usually far behind. If his work schedule, which Jackie had memorized down to the most minute detail—the second—was still in line, Gunther wouldn't be getting off work for another solid forty minutes. "But it's like, 9:00, and he's a relatively healthy guy—he's probably going to sleep-!" Kendall yelped as a hand reached up and tugged at the collar of her shirt. Jackie pulled her down so that their foreheads were pressed together, one jabbing finger at her chest.

"Don't you dare chicken out on me now, Kendall Perkins! We walked for ten minutes and that's a lot for me and you are not putting all of that extra exercise to waste!" Kendall squinted and made a motion to get up, only to be pulled back down by the, not-so-surprisingly, strong Jackie. "Ohhhhh no, no, no, no. You're marching right up to that door and knocking."

Kendall glanced from Jackie to the front door of Kick's home, only to find Scarlett still standing on the front stoop of his porch. She hadn't moved one inch, except (if Kendall squinted) to get a step closer to him. It might not have been so bad, it might not have hurt so much, if she had seen him move away. "I won't have to knock if he just keeps staring after her like that."

Jackie glanced up just as Scarlett hopped onto her skateboard, giving Kick one last wink before taking off down the cul-de-sac sidewalks. She must have seen it too, the brief moment in time where Kick was watching her ride away. His eyes were narrowed, but they read of something entirely different from the usual scowl he wore. There was warmth there, the hint of a forlornness Kendall knew all too well. She watched his smirk fall into a smile—a heart wrenchingly warm, honest smile.

It was suddenly all so stupid. Kendall looked down at herself—down at Jackie's crouched form. What was she doing?

It was obvious, and it always had been; she knew who Kick liked. She denied it and pushed on against all hope that maybe, just maybe, she was seeing what wasn't there, but the truth was hitting her hard and it might have been because she was horrified she was about to hear him say it himself. The truth was that she wasn't ready to face him. The truth was that she didn't want to be forced into giving Kick Buttowski up just yet.

Kendall let out a yelp as she was shoved suddenly out of their hiding place, alerting the taller, _though just as handsome_ ( _You stop that, Kendall,_ she hissed to herself), daredevil to her presence. "Kendall? What are you doing here?" He frowned and pointed towards the ground. "And what are you doing in my neighbor's front lawn?"

She glanced from where she knew Jackie still sat to where Kick stood, staring her down. Kendall gulped and grabbed the sleeve of her shirt, nails digging into the fabric so they wouldn't start shaking. "Just figured I'd take a short-cut home from the library… got lost. But now that I'm here I know my way home."

"You… mean the library down the street?" He gestured behind her to the small library around the corner—a small establishment that often doubled as a daycare. She glanced from the library, back to him, and swallowed hard.

"Uh, no actually, the one around twenty minutes away-!"

He glared at her questioningly, a raised eyebrow and narrowed eye. "What shortcut could you have possibly taken?"

"A confusing one."

Kick crossed his arms and leaned his weight onto one of his (now much, much, longer) legs. He towered over Kendall by a good… two… three inches? Either way, the differences made him all the more menacing. She took in a deep breath and looked away from him, finding herself preoccupied with the moon. It was about 9:15 at night and there she was, trying to muster up the courage to ask Kick a question she already knew the answer to.

"Ow!" She leaped and clutched the back of her head, looking behind her to see Jackie tossing a rock in one hand and glaring at her.

"What was that?"

Kendall froze and mustered up her most convincing smile. "Oh, nothing- nothing. Eep!" Another rock flew by her head, so close she was surprised Kick still hadn't seen it go flying. In no time flat Buttowski had crossed the way to her, arms crossed as he leaned forward and eyed her with what could have only been suspicion. _Abort! Abort!_

"It didn't look or SOUND like nothing."

"How are we to know what nothing sounds like, huh?" _Weak excuse, Kendall!_

Kick pulled away from her, and she silently thanked whatever deity had been responsible for such a miracle. His face had been uncomfortably close to her own, and there was no way of knowing how much longer she could have kept any surmountable form of eye contact.

He seemed to have grown bored of her, raised eyebrow falling flat. With a nonchalant wave of his hand, he twisted around. "Right, well, I'm going to go inside now."

She grabbed the sleeve on his wrist quicker than he had turned, yanking on the fabric gently as to not tear it—not that he would have cared if she did (that jumpsuit had been abused for years). "Kick, I, um, have a question."

Now she really had him confused; he looked at her again, lips pursed and eyes narrowed as dangerously and sharply as one of his turns. All she could give him in return was a largely bogus "stern" look. She knew how ridiculous it sounded. Kendall Perkins, resident smart aleck, was asking resident fearless citizen—and straight D-student—Kick Buttowski a question. Well, it didn't count, she mused. She already knew the answer so there was no use in beating herself up over asking him.

Yep. This was Jackie's fault.

"How's your break been?"

All Jackie's fault.

WHAM!

Kendall just barely dodged another rock being thrown, this time at her rear end. She glanced in her best friend's direction to see that Jackie had thrown that one on accident; she was more focused on something behind her. Kendall was about to turn and ask when she was reminded that Kick was still there by the yanking of his sleeve. "Awesome, as usual. Is that all you wanted to ask, or…?" Kendall inhaled and turned back to him, reaching up to twirl on strand of hair around her finger. Her gaze fell to the grass beneath them, one of her feet digging a hole in the ground. _The beginning of my own grave…_ She thought tartly.

"Kick? Who do you like?"

"What?!"

He stepped back, eyes wide, pupils the size of two shrunken raisins, and arms held almost defensively in front of his body. _Like I could hurt him in any way his stunts haven't…_ Kendall took another deep breath and crossed her arms, daring to bring her fervent gaze to meet his disturbed one. "You heard me, Clarence." She quickly degraded herself for calling him Kick before—there was no room for familiarity here, not when she knew what he was going to say. Not when she knew what came next was going to hurt… "Who do you like? You've got a lot of fan-girls. Who would you be the most interested in dating?"

Kick's face grew blank, as mind numbing to read as a fresh sheet of paper. He didn't move, though, body seemingly solid in one spot. She related to that; her body was quickly freezing over, too, albeit for abundantly different reasons.

The situation was beginning to skyrocket in the awkwardness department. She was looking everywhere but his face, her grip on her hair not so tender anymore—it felt like she was going to pull her own hair out. They stood there for a good minute, just waiting for Kick to grasp the situation at hand.

"Oh, Clarence! Just answer the question!"

"Uhhhh…" When he finally spoke, his words were laced with the kind of caution one would use around their own senile grandmother—condescending and suspicious. His head tilted to the side. "Why?"

"I just want to know, geez!"

"But why do you wanna know? That's not exactly something people share with acquaintances."

"B- Because! Because, because…!" She was beginning to stammer. Her eyes searched everywhere, searching the cloudy night-sky for an excuse. "Because it's for a project I'm doing!"

Kick's eyes narrowed. "A project?"

"Yep! I'm trying to see if 'opposites attract' pertains to people, too. I'm asking everybody!" _Okay, Kendall—you still have time to purchase a one-way ticket to a cruise out of Mellowbrook. You have a uncle that can get you in for a discount and you have just enough saved up for ¾ of a ticket's price. If you hurry, you can get there before the final boat leaves for the night._

"Well you're not getting an answer outta me!" He waved her off and turned back around, looking to retreat into the confines of his home. She didn't know why, but she stopped him.

"Look, it's anonymous!" _Once you arrive at the next state over, you can get a job working for minimal wage at a small convenience store. It won't be enough for a home, but it'll be enough for some food. You can find shelter at your nearest park—you'll get a roof over your head and you can string some leaves together as a blanket._

"Don't care." Kick didn't even pause, and every step he took towards his door felt like another wave of relief but another storm of anxiety.

"Only I'll know!" _You can skip a meal somewhere in the first few days—call Jackie up on a pay phone and let her know you're all right. She might still be mad at you for booking it, but hopefully her worry will have dissipated most of that. She might even send you some vanilla wafers while you're away! As for your parents, your uncle can leave them a message, right? It'll only be temporary! Maybe a few months? A Year? If you haul your butt right now you can get back home, empty your savings jar, and get to the docks with ten minutes left to spare._

"Exactly."

WHAM!

Another rock flew by Kendall's head. What in the world is going on over there? What did she do—run into a feral cat? "Kick, just do me a favor and answer the stupid question!"

"Why do you even want to know?!"

Kendall screamed and threw her arms in the air, more than ready to just wave her white flag and be done with the whole situation. "Ugh, never mind! You're… you're… impossible, Clarence!"

He should have been insulted, should have argued right back and told her in so many words that she was way more difficult than he was, but instead he only turned his head over his shoulder and gave her one of his moldering grins. "I do the impossible, too."

 _Can't argue with that, I guess._ Kendall inhaled for ten seconds, and then let it all out for another round. Her hands balled into fists at her sides as she did her best to gather what little strength she still had tucked into the dark recesses of her mind. "Just tell me whether or not you like Scarlett!"

Kick's face contorted in confusion again, one eye narrowed while the other was open wide. "Scarlett?"

"Yes!" Kendall kicked one of the rocks Jackie threw, specifically the one that hit her head, into the street. "Clarence, I want to know if you are interested in Scarlett!"

Kick paused, glanced from her to the street, and looked back to her again, gaze scrutinizing. Kendall felt her stomach doing Olympic-level backflips, heart pounding like a gong against her rib cage. Then he sighed, and all of that went plummeting off of cliffs so high that she felt utterly—exhausted, defeated, destroyed—when those emotions hit rock bottom. "I…?"

"Don't! Don't even bother answering." She shrugged and let the hair that'd come tangled around her finger fall flat against her shoulders. Her eyes focused on the streetlights to the sides of them, one set of fingers messing with the rim of her skirt. "I already know the answer!" Kendall sighed. "It was Jackie. Jackie made me come over here."

"Apparently."

A deep, virile voice bounded from beyond the wall Jackie had set up shop, startling both Kendall and, presumably, Kick. The voice was aged, but it was a voice Kendall knew as well as she knew Kick's. Gunther emerged from the shadows of the neighboring home with an enraged Jackie thrown over his shoulder, her fists coming up and down upon his back as she hurled obscenities in his direction. "PUT ME DOWN! PUT ME DOWN PUT ME DOWN PUT ME DOWN! PUT! ME! DOWN!" Kendall would have told her to wash her mouth out with a fresh bar of soap had the ramifications of what was happening not been punching her directly in the gut.

Gunther seemed unfazed by Jackie's fruitless attempts at an escape, only acknowledging her wriggling form to comfortingly pat the small of her back. "Scarlett caught me at work and told me you wanted to go over some plans for tomorrow's stunt and I found her hiding out in your next door neighbor's yard throwing rocks at Kendall." It was just then that they noticed he was still in his uniform, apron still tied tightly around his now obscenely huge muscles. His hair was tied into a small ponytail behind his head, leaving only his sideburns to frame his carved face. Jackie raised her voice, swinging her limbs as wildly as possible in every direction, but Gunther's hold didn't lessen in the slightest.

"Thanks for that, by the way, Jackie." Kendall hissed and rubbed the back of her head where the stone had hit. Jackie flipped her off, probably because she wasn't physically able to turn around.

"So that was the 'nothing'." Kick recollected, crossing his arms and looking to Kendall for silent confirmation.

She shrugged one shoulder.

Gunther approached Kick with no sign that he was even carrying another human being, leaning down and whispering something inaudible to Kick. Kendall felt curiosity bubble in his chest, but she wasn't about to go snooping any more than she already had that night—it'd just end in empty pits and, apparently, screaming.

"Well my parents are out tonight and Brad's got a date, so it's just me and Brianna. Why don't you guys come inside and we'll talk about what's really going on here?" There was a false pleasantness to his tone, a forced bravado and tenderness that Kendall couldn't help but loathe the sound of. Jackie said nothing as the four of them entered the front door of the Buttowski home.

As they crossed the threshold, all Kendall and Jackie could think was: "Mother Freaking Scarlett!"

Not sure if I'll rewrite the second half. If it's wanted, I will! Constructive criticism is not only accepted, but sought after and appreciated. Thanks!


	2. Jackie, Jackie, Jackie

"So, which one of you is gonna break first?"

Kick sat in a chair he'd dragged out of the dining room, legs kicked back against the coffee table—the only thing separating the girls in the room from the boys. They'd seemed to divide their attentions among Jackie and herself; Gunther sat across from Jackie, leaned back with an arm thrown around the back of his chair. Kendall was convinced they'd silently entered an aggressive staring contest, because Jackie was sat scrunched up on the couch beside her, hands pressed between her legs as she pressed against Gunther's glare with her own.

Kick's gaze had taken presence over Kendall, herself, steely eyes causing such a rift in her posture that she was sure she was developing a hunch back. This wasn't like her—most of the time she'd give Kick one blazing set of eyes back, but she only found her sight drifting from the Christmas tree to the stockings on the fireplace to the floor covered in—glitter? Brianna, she was sure…

"Take your silent torture tactics and shove them where they belong! I'm not even breaking a sweat!" Jackie's voice was raised several pitches, the sure sign that Gunther's glowering was making a little more of an impact than her preaching friend would have preferred to lead on. "You'll never break me, you fools!"

"Jackie, please." Kendall bent forward and dropped her head into her hands.

"The sister code is a strong one and you will gain nothing playing these silly mind games!"

"Jackie, I have a headache."

"Our bond is stronger than your rookie methods ever will be!"

Kendall reached out and gripped Jackie's shoulder in one firm hand, squeezing her enough to deliver her one message: _You are making things worse, please stop talking_.

Jackie glanced from her back to Gunther, slinking back into the couch slowly, as if she was a snake recoiling from an attack. Her eyes were sharp behind her glasses, cutting to the touch should one of their "captors" reach out and try. Gunther seemed unfazed, gaze unshifting as he readjusted his arms so that they were crossed over his wide chest. Kendall risked another glance at Kick, only to find he hadn't wavered, himself. She bit her lip and pulled a strand of her hair behind her ear. "Look, we just wanna know what's going on here. Wacky-!" Kick cleared his throat. "… Jackie hasn't had much interest in my love life for a good three years. We'll find out what's going on, Kendall—with or without a confession."

A confession? Kendall's heart flipped. She blew her bangs out of her eyes and met Kick's gaze again, fingers twiddling because she couldn't help it—she was just so nervous. He was looking at her like she was an enemy again, not the vague idea of a person she'd come to be to him as they'd aged.

Kendall sighed. This wasn't Jackie's fight, and it never had been. If she'd just fessed up to how she was feeling, if she'd just told Kick Buttowski that she was madly in love with him like any sane person would have done instead of floundering around in uncertain answers to threateningly ambiguous questions, then she and Jackie might have been well on their way home with three buckets of ice cream and a large box of tissues. Instead, Jackie was fighting to keep her mouth shut because she wanted Kendall to confess on her own terms, and she was still sitting there struggling to get a peep out. Kick was going to reject her—harshly—she knew that. She probably would never get an honest answer about Scarlett until he inevitably ended up proposing to her at Senior Prom in a dazzling array of unauthorized fireworks, and she'd be left to be a mooching third wheel when Jackie inexorably got back together with Gunther. Sure, maybe Kendall would marry well and have three beautiful children and butlers at her every whim with maids that chose her dress each morning, and she could throw money like flower petals at Jackie's wedding and make it huge and beautiful and legendary, but until that day came she'd be walking around with a huge chunk of her heart missing like a shattered record.

"Okay, Jackie?" She saw her head perk up. "I think we should just tell them the truth…"

She took a deep breath, and Gunther sat up straight while Kick's eyes narrowed. She could feel Jackie shifting uncertainly to her side—sense her eyes roaming over her momentarily poor posture. "The truth is, that Jackie-!"

"I'm still in love with Kick!"

The entire room seemed to pause, and the shift in mood began to take a very different toll. Kendall's jaw must have dropped to the floor, because Kick's widened eyes seemed to be looking for confirmation rather than admission. She didn't say anything, just blinked and flapped her mouth in a heedless attempt to get words out.

Jackie was sitting tall, arms crossed, chin held high, face so contorted with her façade of certainty that even Kendall was nearly moved—nearly.

Gunther's face was the most priceless, wincing like the sun was in his eyes, lips in a small circle just raging with questions. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees as he stared his (ex-?)girlfriend down like a fortified criminal. "I'm calling BS."

"Nope! It's true! I've still got a love for Kick! Want him to marry me!"

* * *

Jackie hissed when Kendall reached over and slapped her upside the head, wincing and reaching for the offended spot as she inched to the other side of the couch.

"Jackie! What the hell?!"

"I'm sorry! I panicked!"

"Oh yes! I'm so sure me confessing was so stressful for you!"

"It wasn't that!" Jackie held her hands up in defense, nibbling on the bottom of her lip. Kendall set her hands in her lap, though they clutched unforgivingly at each other. She was still feeling anxious if not terrified; her secret wasn't out just yet, but Jackie's little outburst might have been more than enough to throw both their love lives out the door. Gunther seemed more than angry when he stormed into the Buttowski kitchen, and Kendall might have dared to say she'd seen the faintest hints of tears welling at the edges of his eyes. Kick had followed him, but not before giving the girls a stern look and an even more stern "stay here". It was out of respect for Jackie's relationship with Gunther that Kendall had stayed firmly planted in her seat—otherwise, she'd have been out the door before Kick had even suggested they step inside his house. Logic said they were teenage boys and it was a sketchy situation anyway; she really should have just gone home. Kendall glanced at the clock—10:30. "It's just that he was acting all manly and stuff and usually that makes my heart swoon and it was but I was so mad at him for making me feel that way when I should be so mad at him and I wanted to make him angry too and-!"

"Jackie, breathe!" She reached over and squeezed Jackie's shoulders, watching as she inhaled like she'd just been strangled. A few deep breaths later, her eyes fell away from Kendall's, instead switching between her mangled grass-stained jeans and the glittery carpet beneath them.

"I'm sorry, Kendall. I just wanted him to feel the way I was feeling…"

She reached up to palm her face, but Kendall cupped her hands in her own and sighed. "It's okay, Jackie. That was ninety percent of my relationship with Kick in grade school." Jackie laughed, though it was small and pathetic compared to her usual rounds of howling, hooting laughter—the kind that woke neighboring homes and startled her cat during sleepovers. She mustered up her best smile, but found that it fell soon after. She couldn't quite hear what was being disputed between Kick and Gunther, but it certainly didn't sound like the resulting conclusion would end well for either of them. She glanced over her shoulder, into the kitchen where she could see Kick's shadow flailing about the way Kick always did, hand gestures everywhere because every bit of his body was riddled with action all the time. "If I just tell Kick the truth, it'll clear everything up…"

"No, you don't need to do that, Kendall." At the small tug on her shoulder, Kendall inched her head back around. Jackie's eyebrows were furrowed, her nose scrunched and her eyes more sullen than after the one time her pet fish bit the dust—sand? Artificial sand? Kendall went to speak again, but Jackie beat her to the punch. "I shouldn't have forced you to confess to him tonight."

"No, you were absolutely right! I need to just tell him the truth and deal with the consequences later. Even Kick would have some respect for that."

"Have some respect for what?"

The sound Kendall made was so woefully undignified that even she felt bad for herself. Kick stood at the pathway to the kitchen, leaning against the door frame with his ankles and arms crossed like he'd been standing there the whole time—wait, how long had he been standing there? There was no telling smirk on his face—in fact he looked quite resigned—but she could hear the pretention in his voice and read it in the curve of his brow. He frowned at her, and she found herself giggling like the sappy stupid girl she was. "Um, well, see what I want to tell you is-!"

The doorbell rang, and for a moment Kick's scrutinizing gaze was somewhere aside from Kendall's quivering form. He glanced at her one last time. "Hold that thought." It sounded like a threat. She and Jackie watched as he padded over to the front door, unlocking it with a laughable lack of aggression compared to what he'd been handling them with. She glanced to Jackie, who blinked back at her with equally as narrowed, bewildered eyes.

"Scarlett? What are you doing back so early?"

And just like that, Kendall's stomach plummeted into the ground, taking her heart and lungs with it.

"Hey, KB! Sorry 'bout making another round over here. I just realized that I left my hair tie over here when we were-?"

"I've got no idea where you would have put it, but you're more than welcome to look?"

She wasn't even looking anymore. While Jackie was nearly climbing over the back of the couch, Kendall found it was much easier to just sink into the lofty seats and pray for the entire situation to just diffuse. All at once she was reminded why she hadn't confessed in the first place; all at once she was reminded that the lady Kick Buttowski wanted at his side had hair like spice and guts like stones, and apparently she thought it was okay to stop by his house at—she glanced at the clock—nearly 11 o'clock at night.

The front door clicked shut, and the sound of a pair of wheels rolling on the tiled walkway leading up to the stairs.

"What's going on in here?"

Scarlett must have seen them, because Jackie squeaked and fell over the side.

"Nothing much," Kick's voice was nonchalant. "We're just tying a few loose knots."

Kendall nearly snorted. _Your ends will be tied tonight—mine are gonna be completely frayed_.

"Hope nothing that'll ruin our lunch plans tomorrow?"

"Wouldn't dream of it!" She didn't realize it, but her nails were digging so far into the palms of her hands that it felt like she was going to cut her circulation off. "Tomorrow is gonna be awesome!"

Kendall leaped off the couch, feeling absolutely, positively suicidal, and crossed her arms over her puffed chest like she had a single leg to stand on. "Clarence!" He and Scarlett jumped and turned to her. _Probably too busy making out with their eyes…_ She cleared her thought and raised her chin. "I am ready to speak to you now, if your company wouldn't mind?"

Jackie inched up from behind the couch, words in a hush but loud enough for Kick and Scarlett to hear, she was sure. "Don't do this for me~! Do this for you~!"

 _Don't worry, Jackie; my only prerogative is getting this over with and being done with Clarence Buttowski once and for all._

* * *

Kick was sat in his misplaced dining room chair again, one leg haphazardly thrown over the other as he scanned Kendall with dissecting eyes. She wouldn't flinch in front of him—not anymore. She was done playing the frail girl afraid of her emotions.

She just really wished Scarlett wasn't in the room, leaning against the doorway to the kitchen, sipping a Cheetah Chug like she was just fine not getting any sleep tonight. Was that really the kind of thing Kick liked in a girl? It didn't matter; she knew she wasn't his type way before she went crawling through his neighbor's front lawn.

She met Kick's hard stare with one of her own. Somewhere beside her, Jackie had found her seat again, shifting from side to side because she was feeling just as awkward as somebody would probably feel having to watch their best friend confess. Kendall understood that. The moment should have been private, but she was in way too deep to care anymore.

"We weren't lying about Jackie being the one who pushed me to come here tonight."

"Go on…"

"I was about to, Clarence." Her tone was biting, but the glare she received was a familiar one, one he wore often around her as kids. "Jackie was the one who encouraged me to come see you, but it wasn't because she's in love with you, because rest assured she's way past that."

Jackie was starting to nibble her nails, and Kendall had to reach over and place gentle hand on her own to get her anxious fingers out of her mouth. Gunther must have heard the last part, because she could hear Scarlett greeting him with a pat to the back and a painfully sultry laugh. She could feel Jackie's gaze meeting his from the side, but she still had a little ways to go before she could get home with that heavy heart of hers. She was sure her legs would mirror the feeling all the way back to her bed.

"Good to hear—but that still doesn't explain why you showed up here in the middle of the night."

"You're right." Her heart was starting to pound like a handful of heavy-duty hammers against her chest, curbing her breathing and heating her cheeks. She just had to say it. She just had to get it out of her system and go home; she'd get his message loud and clear when he'd never mention it again. "I came here tonight because I love you. There, happy Clarence?"

She heard Scarlett sputter and spit her drink out—what little didn't go down the wrong hole, anyway. Gunther audibly gasped, and she nearly expected him to start screaming like the man-child he was. It wasn't a bad thing, Jackie had assured her, just one of his quirks.

Kick's face was just as easy to read.

His eyes were wide, mouth hanging open like he was waiting for somebody to close it for him. His body, which had been relaxed and somehow still threatening before, had tensed and become so wound up that he almost appeared frozen where he sat. _Not exactly the best reaction, but what were you expecting, Kendall?_

She stood up and glanced at Scarlett from the side, who was bent over choking on energy drink, coughing up whatever she could to clear her air holes. Scarlett's eyes met hers and, for the life of her—she didn't know why, but Kendall shrugged and gestured from her to Kick. "Anyway, I'm not trying to steal your boyfriend, Scarlett. You two are great together. Have fun." She didn't wait for a response. She walked around the couch, beelining for the front door with a nod to Jackie. "I'm going home, Jackie. If you want to come, I've got ice cream and hot caramel topping—I know it's your favorite."

A quick glance saw Jackie's eyes meeting Gunther's panicked ones, and for a brief moment there was an understanding between the two of them Kendall was sure Gunther understood; their friends needed them. Though it was small, miniscule to the eye, Kendall could see their heads nodding.

Jackie was off the couch and right behind her in moments, one arm wrapped securely around her shoulders. She didn't hear a word she said, but Kendall knew she was suggesting a large list of romance movies.


	3. Snake? Snake! SNAAAAKE!

When Kendall opened her eyes, everything felt groggy and awful and everything hurt—the headache might have had something to do with the constant rapping of squirrels chucking nuts at the window.

Her hair was a tussled mess, matted beyond what just a hair brush could do (she'd need to thoroughly condition it first), and for some odd reason she was sleeping on the floor with only a fitted sheet thrown over her. Cartons of ice cream sat idly around her, the last few drops of vanilla seeping out onto the carpet of what she was assuming was her bedroom. Her legs felt cold, and it took her a few moments to remember that she'd worn her favorite pink striped shorts to bed the night before; the fitted sheet probably wasn't reaching her calves. She could hear Jackie snoring somewhere off to the side, but she wasn't quite sure where.

Groaning, Kendall shot up, unintentionally flipping what must have been a fourth carton with the sheer force of her hair flip. The sun was shining through her open curtains, and from the height it sat in the sky, it was safe to assume she and Jackie had slept well into noon. Jackie appeared to be fast asleep on the edge of her bed, entire upper body hanging so low that her head was touching the floor. Blankets were sprawled all around her, tangling her legs in a maze of cotton and silk. Kendall reached down and picked up the carton she'd flipped, brushing her fingers through her hair and sighing when they met the cool slimy feel of melted ice cream. She grunted and tossed it at Jackie's sleeping form; it landed with a dull thud. "Jackie, get up."

Jackie's head popped up, accompanied by a thin line of saliva dripping from the corner of her downturned lip to the blanket-scattered floor. Among all of the slurred semi-words Jackie was using to describe how she was feeling and how bright the sun was, Kendall caught "what time is it?"

Kendall rubbed her left eye, realized it wasn't getting any less blurry, and then rubbed her right eye so she could take a look at the clock hung on her wall. "12:40."

Jackie's backside fell over her head and she toppled to the floor. "Ohgodwhy-!"

Kendall pressed the palms of her hands into her lower back and stretched, yawning.

The night had managed to escape her, as Jackie was an amazing friend and was willing to sit there and watch French Romances for six hours straight even though she hated them and ice cream was an excellent distraction because fudge just worked so well with it. The problem was, now that the night was over and done, there was still a heavy, bitter feeling emanating squarely in her chest. "I'm still seeing his face, Jackie." There was a small hum in response, silently egging her to go on. "I can still see his horrified, disgusted face and how pale he looked and how awkward that must have been for him if he and Scarlett weren't a thing yet…" As she continued, Kendall started to feel more and more like a whining child who hadn't gotten what she wanted, made worse by the fact that she knew walking in she was going to be rejected. Really, she had no reason to complain.

"Kendall, it wasn't that bad." Jackie sat up and wiped the drool from her mouth, voice groggy and itchy. "Did he look frightened? Yes. Did he look like he wanted to throw up and run away screaming? No. Any guy would be alarmed with a confession like yours, Kendall—you're a domineering woman."

Kendall laughed and fell back into the mess of cartons that lay around her, cringing at the room-temperature texture gushing against the back of her head. "Great. That's exactly what every guy wants…"

"Hey, can I throw one of these cartons at the stupid squirrels? I'm a little mad about being up so early and my rage is in desperate need of quenching."

"Yeah sure, why not? I need to reinvent myself anyway." Kendall waved a dismissive hand. "Might as well start with my love of the environment..."

"Nnn'Kay cool."

Jackie picked up the cartons of melted icy goodness and padded back over to the bed, bending over to unlatch and open the window above. "Take this, you annoying overhyped furry jerks!" Kendall saw her raise the carton to throw it, but she never did. Instead, Jackie paused, container in one hand and window in the other, lips parting like she was deciding whether or not to say something. That was odd for Jackie, considering their ever-running mouths were one of their shared qualities. "Kendall…"

"…Yes?"

There was a second of silence.

"You might wanna get dressed."

Kendall grunted and flicked one of her wrists over her eyes, desperately wishing the pain behind her skull away.

"Why?"

"Because that wasn't a squirrel," she set her weapon down gingerly, threw her legs over the side of the bed, and fixed the creases in her pants. "That was Kick and Gunther."

* * *

That was the fastest Kendall had ever gotten ready—ever. She'd washed the ends of her chocolate-vanilla-covered hair in the sink, dabbing bits of shampoo through the pieces and hoping all the strands wouldn't be sticking together once she was done. After that, she'd hurriedly run that hair under her blow dryer on the hottest, strongest setting it would allow, and spritzed her entire body up and down with perfume. It would be obvious she'd just woken up, but they probably already figured that out. Her teeth were brushed in twenty seconds—probably not efficiently, but enough that her breath wouldn't smell, and she'd thrown a jacket on over her white tank top because she really couldn't find a bra. She was ready in ten minutes, standing at her front door, deciding whether or not to open it because she had no idea what was waiting on the other side.

Jackie stood to her right, very ostensibly contemplating the idea of opening the door for her. Hands at her hips, foot tapping, Jackie glared. Kendall glanced between her and the knob.

"Are you gonna go outside, or…?"

"I- I don't know! I mean, what could he have to say to me? I thought he was just going to avoid me like a normal person!"

Jackie sighed and rubbed between her eyes where her glasses usually were. Where were they? Well, that was a mystery best solved another time. "Kendall, he could be here to proclaim his adoration of you and sweep you off your feet!"

"Oh yeah! Because Kick Buttowski has been secretly harboring a passionate love for me behind soul-crushing indifference and spite!"

Jackie squinted at her, blinked, and scowled. "I'm sorry—was that not what you did?"

Kendall was starting to bite at her nails—not usually something she did, but certainly something that was helping her calm down right at that very moment.

Jackie reached over and grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her until her hands fell far out nail-biting range. Her brows were narrowed, eyes searching for her (probably because of her glasses), hands as tight as claws. "Kendall, listen to me: You are going to open up that door, face Kick Buttowski: Suburban Daredevil like the self-reliant, assertive woman you are, and you're going to take what's handed to you! Do you understand me?"

The "yes" she managed was no louder than a squeak.

The first few inches were the most painful, and saw Kendall trembling as she pulled the door open, egged on only by Jackie's occasional hand gestures, urging her to just pull it open all the way. The last few inches were easier—primarily because Kick stuck his hand in the door and brushed it open the rest of the way himself. It was funny: usually she and Kick came around to about the same height, with Kick sitting only three inches taller. With him standing there, one hand on her door, looking at her with such… resolve? It felt like he stood towers and castles over her head.

"Kendall," his voice was deep, dangerous even for him. "We need to talk."

* * *

He was making that daredevil face again, and it might not have freaked her out so much if he wasn't leading her to her backyard alone. Kendall turned her head back to get some form of coaching from Jackie, but was oddly delighted to find Gunther setting a pair of emergency glasses on Jackie's face. He did it with a gentleness she'd heard Jackie describe a million times over—sweet fingers brushing her hair so lightly, palms of his hands cupping her cheeks, just so, with such great ardor that it was natural to lean into his touch. She saw Jackie's eyes go wide and gloss over, her cheeks burning bright under Gunther's delicate hands; she was falling in love with him all over again, and if the adoration in Gunther's gaze was any indication, he was falling for her again, too.

The last glimpse she caught was of Jackie's lips curling into a smile, and then Kick had dragged her around the corner.

"Clarence-!"

"Kendall!"

As they stepped into her backyard, she ripped her arm from his hold and stood valiantly by the sliding door, half because she wanted to keep up appearances and half because she wanted to stand by her sister's flowerbeds and be sure Kick wasn't going to somehow miraculously destroy them all. It seemed like he was prone to unintentional—and intentional—destruction; she snorted to herself. He turned to face her with that stupid look, the one she daydreamed about for months and months on end, and it was suddenly so hard for her to stand straight—her knees wobbled. They were at an impasse, and suddenly it felt like fifth grade all over again.

His eyes were glazing over her, searching her face, scanning her. "You didn't give me a lot of room to respond last night."

"Didn't need you to. The girl at your house near midnight was more than I needed."

"She was there for a hair tie."

"That I'm supposed to believe she just couldn't live without? I lose hair ties all the time, Clarence! It's part of being a girl!"

"Scarlett isn't much of a girl."

"She's a woman of adrenaline—yeah, I know! I get it."

Kick cocked an eyebrow. "Just what exactly is your problem with her?"

"You, Clarence! It's always been you!" He looked momentarily shaken, and Kendall took that moment to steady herself with a deep breath. "Look, I'm not your type, okay? I know that she's practically your dream girl." She started counting on her fingers, hardly noting the stickiness of ice cream residue. Gross, but she'd deal with it later. "Scarlett's cool, she's level-headed, loves a rush like you do, and on top of it she's incredibly hot! I'm no Mary-Jane Watson, I know that! I could never pull off a full head of red like she can, I bought a skateboard but I can't ride it to save my life-!"

Kick tilted his head and gestured to her bedroom window. "Did you really-?"

"Heights terrify me! I haven't broken a bone since I was ten years old! My eyes are brown and not whatever gorgeous shade of green hers are! I'm not level-headed! I'm bossy and loud and I love rules" Kendall motioned to her house "and I ate three cartons of ice cream last night and fell asleep with them in my hair!" Kick blinked, brows furrowed, and opened his silent mouth. She knew she'd really embarrassed herself already. She knew there was no turning back and her reputation—what was left of it—was far beyond ruined. There was no use in stopping then. "I know she's your perfect match, and I'm just not Mother Freaking Scarlett! So, if you could please just reject me so you can get to Scarlett in time for your date and I can get on with my life, I'd appreciate it, Clarence!"

Kick sat there looking much like he did last night, eyes wide and mouth gaping, and she felt unnervingly like she'd read him a list of all her secrets and was awaiting a response; but she wasn't waiting, not anymore. She stood straight and crossed her arms, nose scrunching up.

Kick shook his head, and that daredevil face was back again, not a trace of uncertainty in sight. He pointed a reproving finger at her, irritating even without the feel of it jabbing at her chest.

"What makes you think Scarlett is my girlfriend?"

"Um, literally everything I know about guys? She's a female you, Kick."

"You think I wanna date myself? Well," He smirked, and she wanted to punch him. "I am pretty awesome."

Kendall exhaled, as though that was going to take the unsettling feeling, settling squarely in her chest, away. "What did you come here to say?"

"I came to formally respond, of course. What else?"

She waved him to continue on. "Just get this over with, please."

He approached her, slowly, and when his heel scraped the last time, he stood towering over her shrunken frame; she felt his presence fully wash over her—exciting, irritating, hair-raising. "Look, I don't know what you think I'm going to say, but I can, without a doubt, tell you that I am not dating Scarlett."

She was finding it difficult to meet his gaze, but she lifted her head up anyway, searching for the warmth she'd seen in Gunther when he was looking at Jackie, or even the fire in his eyes when he'd seen Scarlett off the night before; they were sharp. Any hope she'd been holding onto, any small part of her still screaming and begging for just a fervent gaze; it simply wasn't there. Where she wanted to see adulation, she saw the same old look he always gave her, the one she'd memorized when she was just a kid. "I mean, I was kind of into her when we were kids…" She rolled her eyes. "But she's not really my kinda girl."

"Then who is, Clarence? Because if a girl who practically materialized just for the sake of being perfect for you doesn't arouse your interest, I can't imagine what girl possibly could! Is it a guy? Are you into guys?"

Kick pulled back, looking both puzzled and simultaneously vexed. "What? No. What made you think-?"

"You and Gunther are freakishly close on occasion, okay?"

"He's my best buddy!"

"Yeah, I know but-!"

Kick covered her mouth with one gloved hand. "Not the point." Kendall shut her mouth and waited patiently for him to pull his hand away. She fought her reflex to swallow hard, and instead reached around the grab her other arm. He beat her to it, placing the hand that'd been at her lips so it was just above her elbow, squeezing. She wanted to tell him not to touch her. She wanted to tell him they weren't friends and he had no right to just put his hands on her like he'd done it millions of times. It was just that, and she winced, there was something intimate about it, about the way his fingers wrapped themselves around her arm and held it there. She liked it, she admitted; she liked how it felt, no matter how temporary or conditional it was, to have Kick be warm.

Her eyes fell to the ground before she brought them back up and squinted at him, as though she'd spit on him if he said the wrong thing. Their noses were close to touching, tip to tip, but she was too angry to care and Kick was Kick. "So who is she, Clarence? Who is Kick Buttowski's 'dream girl'?"

"Don't have one."

She snorted and pulled away. "Yeah, sure."

"No, really!" The apples of his cheeks grew pink, and he reached around to rub the back of his neck, gazing somewhere to the side, presumably at her sister's rose garden. "I haven't exactly put a lot of thought into that sort of thing."

"Okay, and you came over to my house just to say that?"

"No, it's-!" He paused, eyes narrowing under the shadow of his helmet as he turned his attention back on her face. Kendall cocked an eyebrow. "You're actually gonna make me say it, aren't you?"

"Say what?"

Kick went to say something, stopped, and then frowned. "Kendall, you know what I'm getting at!"

"No, I really don't!" She was getting tired of all the ambiguity. She was confused enough as it was and he was making it harder and harder for her to understand. Kick had never been a complicated person, not once in all the years that she'd known him. Why in the world he had to eschew forwardness right when it would spare her some heartache, she had no idea. She was already developing quite the grudge for the night before, and there he was making it worse. He was playing with her—she was certain of it! "I told you I loved you, didn't I?" Kick's face went red just above his nose, and suddenly it occurred to her that she'd never said it to him without the company of others before, let alone while he was holding her in his arms like one of the fantasy novels she (secretly) sporadically picked up. Even so, she swallowed hard and pressed on. "Surely, if I can do that, you can say whatever it is you're gonna say!"

Kick grimaced. "It wouldn't hurt if you read the situation!"

"What's there to read, Clarence? You showed up at my house, dragged me out back, and now you're being super vague even though you're totally," she put that in air quotes "Not dating Scarlett!"

"Well, I'm not!"

"I saw the way you were looking at her!"

"How was I looking at her exactly, Kendall?" Her name was like poison on his lips, and if she'd felt like they were back in grade school before, it certainly felt like it then.

"Like a man feverishly in love, obviously!" She dug a finger into his chest, brushing off the realization that it was more like rock than she'd expected, and barred her teeth. "Jackie and I were sitting there for a while, Clarence! You might've seen us sooner if you weren't kissing her with your eyes!"

"I wasn't kissing anybody with anything!"

"Then what should I call it?" She clasped both her hands together and glanced to the sky as dramatically as possible, tossing her head back and giving him her best pout. "Were you embracing her with your eyes? Oh, oh! What about serenading her?"

Kick growled and took a palm to his helmet. "I cannot believe you are being this difficult! Oh wait, I can!" He waved to her in, presumably, her entirety. "You're Kendall Perkins! When are you not difficult about anything?"

"Well maybe I wouldn't have to be if you weren't being so uncharacteristically evasive!"

"I'm not being uncharacteristically evasive!"

"Then just break my heart and get it over with!" She was feeling surprisingly sturdy, even though she knew she'd be shaking like a leaf whenever their little confrontation was over. Hiding under her covers and weeping into her pillow, throwing everything she owned around her room, tossing all of her glittery pink markers that had long since dried out into the garbage—it was all only minutes away. She'd walk inside and tell Jackie to go home, because she'd have to be alone at some point and even her best friend had never seen her on the edge of smashing anything expensive. Jackie had done her job; it was time to handle things on her own. "I've held onto whatever this is for, like, seven years, Clarence! I just want to get over you and be done with all of this _will they, won't they_ drama! I know you hate me! Just say it and-!"

"I never, ever said I hated you!"

"But you do, right?"

"Well, do you hate me?" Kendall's voice box stopped working, and she bit down on both her lips. Kick stood back, haughty hands at his hips. She licked at the roof of her mouth, trying to find the right combination of words.

"I mean, no… No, obviously. I mean, yeah, your stunts can be incredibly inconvenient for everyone around you" He glared at her "and you're way too arrogant for your own good, but I don't think- no. I don't think I hate you."

"And your attitude never fails to get on my nerves!" She scowled up at him, and he shrugged. "But that doesn't mean I hate you any more than you hate me."

"Doesn't mean you like me, either."

Kick's eyes were glancing over her again, searching for something and she still had no clue what it could've been. She felt like shifting her weight, like moving from side to side just to make things more difficult for him, but she didn't move.

"And what if I do?"

Her heart took a huge gasp of air, it must have, because it was flying at the back of her throat. She turned to look at him, and was more than surprised to find him staring right back at her. His eyes were still searching, but they were more focused on her face than before. Her cheeks were lighting up, as though she'd lit a forest fire beneath each skin cell individually, and she nearly raised a hand to press the tips of her fingers to see if they heated to the touch.

Kick inhaled, paused, exhaled, and gave her a semi-smug grin. "Look, I don't let fear tie me down all the time—it's my job to go out there and conquer it. It's what I do. But it's not what you do." He nodded to the rest of the garden, as though noticing all of it for the first time. Her eyes followed his, even when they fell to the poppies. "You were too scared to make a move, so you started making up excuses."

"I didn't-!"

"But I didn't exactly tell you, either." He shrugged and met her gaze with a softer one, brows furrowed even if his smile still stuck around. "If I'm honest, I kinda knew I liked you. I just really, really didn't want to. So, like any sensible 10-year-old, I buried it into the deepest recesses of my mind and didn't think about it again until you made a huge cheesy mess of your confession!"

She opened her mouth to defend herself and he held up both hands, raised brows and growing smile.

"Gunther spent the better part of the night talking me through it."

"Better part of the night as in…?"

"We haven't slept." Kendall snorted. "So look, I'm not planning to get mushy and tell you my love burns brighter than a thousand suns…" she raised an eyebrow. "… but...?" Kick grinned from ear to ear, though his eyes were squinted and his cheeks were turning an ungodly shade of red, and shrugged his hands and shoulders. "What do ya say we skip all of the nonsense and, uh, do couples stuff?"

"No! Hold on a second, here! I'm still stuck on why you would like me! You said Scarlett isn't your type of girl, so what makes me your type? She's everything I'm not!"

"Exactly!" Kick inhaled, hands just below his nose, and exhaled. "Look, Scarlett's an awesome chick, but she doesn't know when to stop."

"You don't know when to stop!"

"Right! And that's why I like you and not her!" He motioned somewhere to the side, somewhere in the direction of his home, she noted. His tone raised, deep voice an octave higher, brows furrowed down. "In case you haven't noticed, you keep me in line!"

"Gunther keeps you in line!"

"Yeah well, as much as I hate to say it, Gunther can't always be there!" Kendall twisted her head around, squinting to see through the blinds shading the door to the backyard. Through what little space there was between each blind, she could make out what appeared to be a very happy Jackie in the arms of an exasperated—though equally as joyful—Gunther. He was lifting her off feet and twirling her around effortlessly, as Vikings do… "He can't drop an anniversary dinner with Jackie to come running when I wanna do something awesome!"

She burrowed her fists deeper into her crossed arms and turned to face him, unfazed by the redness of his ears or the twitch of his eye. "Oh, so you like me because I'm more convenient?"

"No, Kendall! I like you because you're you! You've got a one track mind, you're elegant and bossy—but I can see there's awesome somewhere in you! I need you to keep me from falling over the edge and you need me to get you there!" He brushed right by her, grabbing her arm in one hand as he trekked for the sliding glass door. She yelped and let him drag her, way too tired and distracted by her pending trip to Cloud 9 to do much in the ways of fighting back. "Come on!"

"Wait, where are we going?"

"Our first date."

* * *

"Kick, darling, is it okay if I call you that?"

"Yes~?"

"What, exactly, are we doing on top of Gunther's family restaurant?"

Let alone in a cardboard box… strapped to Old Blue… way, way off the ground…

Kick looked back at her and shrugged. "Just trust me, all right?"

"Kick!" She gripped his shoulder and squeezed as tight as she could. She was surprised when he reached up and set a gentle hand at her own, turning back around and giving her a smile.

"You said you were afraid of heights, right? Well if I'm here, you don't have anything to worry about."

"You crash all the time!"

"Exactly!" Kick turned to the side, nodding to Gunther. "All right, buddy. Let 'er rip!"

Gunther stood by what appeared to be a makeshift lever, pieced together by scraps they'd probably found in the city junkyard. Jackie was close, giving Kendall very ecstatic thumbs up as she leaped up and down. Kendall gave her a weak smile just as Gunther saluted. "Kick, am I going to hate you for this?"

She could hear the smirk in his voice. "Maybe."

Gunther pulled the lever, and the latch holding the cardboard box back unattached, leaving the skateboard below to roll straight down the side of the building.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to slap the back of Kick's head and cry and tell him he was the worst, but she couldn't stop smiling. The ride was getting faster, and faster, and faster, and the wind was hitting her head and her ears and the box was shaking but a laugh was building in her throat—and she felt so undeniably alive. Her heart was doing flips and bounds in her chest, and she tugged Kick closer to her heart and dug her head into the crook of his neck. She could hear him stifle a chuckle, but more than that, she felt him reach around and pull her closer by the hands at his back. The box shook again, though with more force, swaying from side to side as they toppled and went flying over the brink.

It was like she'd been kicked in the lungs; she had no air to scream. She felt her body leaving the box, felt herself flying over Kick's head into the mercy of gravity and the bright light of the sun. She panicked. They were too high up for her to fall. If she managed to land and not kill herself, then she'd at best walk away with all her limbs broken, or a spinal injury or-!

Kick reached up and grabbed her by the hand, pulling her up and over and into his lap. She shrieked and wrapped both arms around his neck, opening her eyes just in time to see him grinning at her. Their noses brushed together, and for the second time that day her cheeks went red.

"Told ya you could trust me."

Before she could respond, Old Blue hit the ground, and they sailed a few more yards before coming to a slow stop. She felt like she could breathe again, like all the air in her lungs had taken a trip and swung back around to meet her pounding heart in a blissful reunion.

She already missed the adrenalin. "Kick, I…"

"You said you couldn't get anywhere on your skateboard." He waved to the box below them, though kept one hand unnervingly at her hips. "I was originally gonna do this on Old Blue alone, but I figured there was no way I was getting you to do that."

"You," she breathed. "You would have been right." She pulled away, maneuvering out of his lap so he could stand. Kick leaped out of the box and, surprisingly, offered Kendall a hand like a gentleman. She raised an eyebrow and took it, almost careful to not let her skirt fly up before she remembered she was still wearing her shorts. "Were you trying to impress me?"

"You were already impressed." There was a playfulness to his tone, she thought, as though he was flirting with her? "I just wanted to show you what it was like, since you seemed so curious."

"What I'm curious about is why you're still holding my hand." The smirk fell from his face, pink dusting his cheeks, and he glanced down at their joined hands with a bead of sweat inching down his temple. He chuckled and took his hand back. She gave him a smile and gripped the hand he'd held in her other, willing away the urge to tug a loose strand of hair out of her eyes. Kick crossed his arms and nodded to the restaurant where they could see Gunther opening his arms for Jackie to leap into. She took the plunge, and true to Gunther's nature, he caught her in a twisted embrace.

"So, do ya get it now?"

"Huh?"

"Why I like you?" Kick frowned, one troubled brow rising. "You get it now, right?" Kendall coughed into her hand and turned her head away, trying perhaps futilely to hide the tremble of her voice.

"Because I'm… not awesome?"

"No, Kendall!" He gripped both her arms and pulled her toward him, hands hot enough her mind was delving into daydream mania. She looked up at him from under the shade of her bangs, far too nervous to meet him at full height. His eyes were softer than usual, not the outward of his cold hard daredevil persona. "Because you've got awesome in that safe little brain of yours, and I wanna see who you really are!" Kendall batted an eyelid, and for the first time in twenty-four hours, she took a moment to think. His eyes were wide and his hands were tight—but just tight enough, not too tight. His cheeks were the faintest shade of red if she paid attention, the apples growing darker the more she watched. The blue in his eyes was coming out, and she couldn't quite decide if that was the sun peeking its head from behind the white tufts of cloud, or the—she nearly sighed—fondness inching up to break his façade. She vaguely wondered why she hadn't noticed it sooner, and tried to nudge down the urge to smile in that airhead way she knew she'd fallen victim to as of late. He looked at her the same way Gunther looked at Jackie, hands cupped at her cheeks, noses pressed together, but Kick was _tough_ and he made that gaze his own.

Without another word, she gripped him by the turned-up lapels of his jumpsuit and tugged him into her, pressing her lips to his in what could only be termed as "one for the diary". People always talked about fireworks but she just felt fire, like her chest was full of hot coals and her heart was in a sauna. He was like stone where they met, as though she was kissing the brunt of his teeth and not his lips, but her stomach was still rising into her lungs and she still felt like gagging on the butterflies. Then, becoming acutely aware of how little and poorly she'd brushed her teeth that morning, Kendall pulled away.

She looked to her shoes (flip flops, as he'd pressed her out the door irksomely undemocratically) and touched the rim of her mouth with the tips of her fingers, looking up at him with furrowed brows and parted lips.

His eyes were wide and jaw well dropped, pupils moving from side to side as he searched her face.

"Too soon?" She mumbled.

He grabbed her by the shoulders, pulled her flush against his chest, and kissed her again. She leaned into his touch and frowned when he pulled away. With an earnest gaze—softened eyes, small smile, deep timbre—he said: "Not at all."

His hands cupped her jaw and she stood on her toes so he didn't have to bend so far over.


End file.
